- Jan 12, 2023
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newleaf is the season of cleaning, she's been told ; spun under the delighted trills of new beginnings and fresh starts so the youngest of them wouldn't yowl their displeasure. the greenery begins to grow a shade that explains just why they called it that. greenery. as if the earth had burst alight from its frost - ridden bars, gasping life into colors she'd never known had been dulled. moss grows aplenty along the willows closest to the water, and as their lack of paws after the rogue attacks left them floundering for power, she'd been assigned to gather it for the apprentices when they return from a mass training at the beech copse ; a stretch of land she's tried to strain and catch through the trees since her earliest moon, a place of wander and anticipation that keeps her eager still to be bestowed her name.. though she hasn't mentioned it, not since her return. the eagerness that still rouses in her when she thinks of those paths towards the meadowlands. the open, snow - blessed lands where cattail split and lead into the great, river - wisped open.. riverclan territory.
her thoughts wander as she follows houndstride, her assigned watcher for the day ; stepping in the pawprints he makes along the pebbled shallows to collect where plant life pours along the willows. she's still wobbly ; stout, not quite tall enough to reach the bottom too far along. fishbone curls drift halo-like around her slight chest, chin tipped upward in a way only learning kits still did. its a learning curve, swimming. she adjusts to the weight of the water with each step as he does, moves her body slow in the water like he does. ruddy eyes flit to the corner of her eye, witness the chocolate stripes and pink - woven flesh that wave with the motion of the surface where the warrior walks along mercifully slow. she'd only ever seen one cat as pelt - cut as he : her uncle, who's nightfall pelt glows with dawn carved constellations though never quite as thick - ribboned as houndstride's seemed to be. it was something to admire. it also looked.. painful, the way his striped scarring stretches and pulls with each wading step.
her own reflection blurs saccharine at his heel, skull bleached white stark and shimmering against murky blue green.
โ you were gone for a long time. โ it's a cold start, voice lilting like the flutter of water sealed feathers over a still river. she is ever whisper soft, lily lunged and odd ; rosen brown eyes lifting beneath its forever dream - rheumed haze to continue with a ghostly, โ that's what smokestar says. โ because she was too young. she didn't even remember the warrior, not until he arrived in camp one quiet day, surrounded by cats with warm familiarity in their eyes. she tries not to look at his scarring too directly, but they stretch raised and obvious as the tabby coat beneath them. what could have done something like that? what could have done something like that, and what sort of darkness had houndstride survived out there, all alone? what sort of horrors did he meet on his venture out?
she blinks at him slow and wraithlike -- then murmurs a final, apologetic, โ did something, um.. take you? โ
her thoughts wander as she follows houndstride, her assigned watcher for the day ; stepping in the pawprints he makes along the pebbled shallows to collect where plant life pours along the willows. she's still wobbly ; stout, not quite tall enough to reach the bottom too far along. fishbone curls drift halo-like around her slight chest, chin tipped upward in a way only learning kits still did. its a learning curve, swimming. she adjusts to the weight of the water with each step as he does, moves her body slow in the water like he does. ruddy eyes flit to the corner of her eye, witness the chocolate stripes and pink - woven flesh that wave with the motion of the surface where the warrior walks along mercifully slow. she'd only ever seen one cat as pelt - cut as he : her uncle, who's nightfall pelt glows with dawn carved constellations though never quite as thick - ribboned as houndstride's seemed to be. it was something to admire. it also looked.. painful, the way his striped scarring stretches and pulls with each wading step.
her own reflection blurs saccharine at his heel, skull bleached white stark and shimmering against murky blue green.
โ you were gone for a long time. โ it's a cold start, voice lilting like the flutter of water sealed feathers over a still river. she is ever whisper soft, lily lunged and odd ; rosen brown eyes lifting beneath its forever dream - rheumed haze to continue with a ghostly, โ that's what smokestar says. โ because she was too young. she didn't even remember the warrior, not until he arrived in camp one quiet day, surrounded by cats with warm familiarity in their eyes. she tries not to look at his scarring too directly, but they stretch raised and obvious as the tabby coat beneath them. what could have done something like that? what could have done something like that, and what sort of darkness had houndstride survived out there, all alone? what sort of horrors did he meet on his venture out?
she blinks at him slow and wraithlike -- then murmurs a final, apologetic, โ did something, um.. take you? โ
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i. @HOUNDSTRIDE. asking the babysitter hard hitting questions while they go to collect moss!! takes place before her sickies for prompt newleaf, new start! it's spring cleaning time! the camp could use some sprucing up, nests need to be remade and collections must be cleaned out and refreshed!
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frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.SHELLKIT ๐ SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENTAIL, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. SIX MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS--------------------------------------------ยฐ โ โshe is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush in a way seemingly similar to hazecloud's. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.